


To Love and to Hate

by Greycoat



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Feels, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Love, M/M, Murder, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greycoat/pseuds/Greycoat
Summary: My take on the scene where Banquo is murdered. (Banquo/Macbeth)We are doing a variation of Macbeth in a small group as a school project and we include a romantic relationship between Banquo and Macbeth. I'm playing Banquo and I had to process his death so I wrote this.





	To Love and to Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so as a clarification I do not own these guys. 
> 
> Also as a clarification: In our play Banquo knows Macbeth killed Duncan and has seen Lady in her psychosis and pretty much knows everything. Also he and Macbeth really are in a secret, subtle relationship, Macbeth just doesn't have the backbone to leave Lady. 
> 
> Also my first language is not English, it's Finnish. Shakespeare is crazy in Finnish already, so I was not going to try his style in English. 
> 
> Also I wrote this in a state of great despair so sorry.

The deep grey clouds had taken over the dark starless night sky. The air around was chilled by an unnamed expectation, a horrifying, choking expectation. It had been a few hours of their journey on the horses and they were both beginning to feel tired. Thankfully they had just reached the stables and the servants were taking care of the horses. There was still a good distance to walk to the palace gates so Banquo and his son Fleance set off right away.

Banquo was playing with the handle of his sword. Quietly he was glancing around them to see anything out of place, but he did not wish to make his son nervous. The boy was young and he hadn’t seen the things he had. 

It was almost an unbearable burden for Banquo to head for his love’s party knowing that he himself was the great obstacle for the new king. Macbeth, his great love, was thinking of him as a roadblock for his journey and was planning on removing him. 

His sigh was too shaky.

Their descend had started right after the three witches had appeared for them. Their omen was the cause Macbeth had started to act. And it hadn’t been only him, it had been his wife all along. Lady Macbeth was the one after the crown, she was the one making the murderous plans, she was the reason his love was ruined. She had always suspected there was something between her husband and Banquo and she acted on it finally. When he had witnessed the Macbeths making their horrendous plans, she had known. 

Banquo knew he was very likely stomping towards his own death. He loved Macbeth and if it was his wish to end his thane, so be it. Banquo had tried to help his king, he had hoped the man was not yet fully gone, but he had been wrong. 

“Father, is all fine?” Came the voice of Fleance. The young man was eyeing his father with a slightly worried tone in his eyes. He had noticed the older man getting a little too worked up in his thoughts; his breath had gotten faster and his lips had let out a pained gasp. It was not the state his father was usually in. More often than not he was very stable and in a poetic way really beautiful-minded. His fighter side was fierce, but his beauty still somehow remained untouched.

“Ah, yes, my son”, Banquo answered while lifting his gaze upon his son. He gave a little nod, “It will rain tonight.”

“Then let the rain come down.”

Banquo drew his sword instantly upon hearing this unfamiliar voice answer him. Somebody kicked the lantern from his left hand and it shattered on the ground leaving them under the dim cloudy sky. 

“Oh, this is treachery! Get out of here, good Fleance, run, run, run! Someday you can get revenge.—Oh, you bastard!”

The sword too fell down with a blinding pain on Banquo’s hand and blood trickled from the gash. He had no time to react or comprehend what was happening until time stopped when there was a blade on his throat. 

A low chuckle came from right next to his ear.

Instead of trying to grab the man holding the knife, good Banquo reached for a medallion hanging around his neck. It had a norse symbol on it. 

He had received the jewellery, oh, so long time ago, when he and Macbeth had fought against the Norwegians together. It had been just the two of them, keeping each other’s backs and taking down the enemy. Later, when the ground was covered in steaming hot blood, Macbeth had approached him and put the rune around his neck as a trophy. And so had Banquo hung his own-found medallion around his love’s strong and fearless neck. From that day on, right before the damned witches had appeared, they’d been wearing the necklaces. 

With this good thought in his mind Banquo wrapped his fingers around the medallion and closed it tight in his fist. 

There was cold pain on his throat, but it was quickly met with hot blood as the skin covering his major vessels was slit open. There was the horrendous pain and the feeling of suffocating, but then suddenly there was nothing more. 

...

Fleance returned to the place he had last seen his father. The sun was already beginning its rise to the sky and it painted the clouds red. It was not a good omen. But Fleance had hope that his father had fought the men and won, and would now be looking to find him. 

The sight in front of him was not the one from his thoughts. There lay his father, the great Banquo, a good thane and a brave man, in an ocean of crimson. His form was still and there was no hope left that he was still alive. 

His face was calm, no sign of fear or anger on it. It was unsettling. 

Fleance knelt before his thane. He took his cool hand in his own and set his eyes on his body. The medallion his father had treasured so dearly was not around his neck anymore. The murderers had taken it. 

Fleance did not know where his father had gotten it, but it had meant something great for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment. (even if this was more just for myself)


End file.
